


Angel on my Shoulder

by MaraGiggles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty?, Gen, This is... I dont know what this is, again I dont know, it's not fluffy, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 17:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17309069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraGiggles/pseuds/MaraGiggles
Summary: Told from Sam's POV. I wrote this one night when I couldnt sleep at like, midnight. It's all the times Sam tells the Reader he's fine and she doesn't believe him.





	Angel on my Shoulder

“I’m fine,” I say softly as you pull me to my feet, your eyes wide with concern for me. Your eyes drift over my body as if you’re checking for injuries, before you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders sag with the motion, your body deflating before my very eyes. And I think you believe me, that smile I’ve always loved crossing your lips as you pull me from the old barn.

It was a hard hunt, but thanks to you, Dean and I survived. It doesn’t surprise me that you saved us. Again. It seems like you’re always saving our hides from something or other. While Dean might not ever admit it, I am always grateful when you join us on hunts. And always a little sad to watch you drive off afterwards without so much as a backward glance.

|*`*|

“I’m fine,” I say as you squint at me suspiciously, the noises of the bar ringing in my ears. It’s been a long day, and all I really want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. Preferably with you beside me, but you don’t know that. You can’t know that. And really, I know I won’t sleep anyway.

A few minutes pass before he walks up. He’s tall and I guess you could call him handsome. He must be, because you can’t stop smiling at him. I know you’re talking now, but the words mean nothing to me as you smile and leave the booth. The other guy takes your hand and, after a quick pat on my shoulder and a brief ‘goodbye, Sammy’, you’re gone again. I know I won't see you again until the next time.

Maybe it's better this way…

|*`*|

“I’m fine,” I say, not even convincing myself as your fingers hold the shirt to my side. My voice comes out weaker than I’d planned, and I clear my throat in an effort to try again. To convince you I’m fine, like I always am. Instead, you place your blood-covered finger over my lips, giving me a stern look that plainly said ‘shut up already’.

So I close my mouth and allow you to help me to my feet again. It’s slow going, and the pain just won’t stop for five fucking seconds. I’ve no idea where Dean went, but as we reach the Impala he shows up, looking as panicked as you do. He asks what happened, and you explain as much as you know after helping me into the backseat.

“Man up, Winchester,” you say as I groan. I’ve had my fair share of stitches before, but for some reason, my sides always hurt the most. I can feel every pull of the thread as you work, your hands moving as swiftly and efficiently as always. And really, it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. 

The groan was more based on the fact that your hands were on me. I really shouldn’t have drunk so much on the way back to the hotel. I’ve only had a bit, but it was hard enough keeping my mouth shut around you when I was sober. All I want to do is kiss you, and it's becoming harder and harder each time we meet to refrain.

|*`*|

“I’m fine,” I say, my words slurring together as you haul me up off my ass. The disapproval on your face is staggering, but in my drunken state, I barely notice it. I try to get away from you, from your overwhelming scent, and end up stumbling into a bin and falling over again. Ok, so maybe I’m not fine.

“Come on, Sam,” you say, your tone soft as you wrap your delicate hands around mine. I simply smile up at you with the goofiest grin imaginable, unable to stop myself from thinking this is what it would be like if you were mine. You taking care of me when I made mistakes. Me doing the same for you. But it’s just a pipe-dream, I knew that. I know that…

It's been years since I first met you, back on a ghoul hunt in Minnesota. I start reminiscing as you haul my arm over your shoulders. You half-carry, half-drag me back to your hotel room, all while I ramble on about you. I’m not quite sure exactly what I’m saying, but I know the sober part of my brain is screaming at me to shut up.

Then you laugh at me, and I’m not quite sure if that’s a good thing or not.

|*`*|

“I’m fine,” I mumble as you tuck me into bed, much like a mother would her child. I’m trying to watch you closely, but my eyes keep trying to shut on me as you hover over me. I do see your eyes light up, I catch the smile that crosses your lips before you duck down, pressing a light kiss to my forehead.

“I know you are, Sam,” you say, quite literally tucking the blankets in around me. It's warm and comfortable, and for the first time since Jess died, I fall asleep easily with your name on my lips.

Unfortunately, the drink doesn’t keep my nightmares at bay. When I wake again my head is pounding, my heart racing, and you are hovering over me again. “I’m fine,” I say yet again, brushing off your concerns as if they are nothing. But I can see it in your eyes. 

You don’t believe me this time.

“No,” you say sternly, your hands on my shoulders as I sit. “You’re not.”

And it's in this very moment that I realise I never fooled you. You’ve known all along how damaged I am, how badly I’m struggling. You tell me this as you sit there, trying to get me to open up to you. You tell me how you know I’m suffering, that you want to help. And I let you.

Before I know it, I’m opening up to you as you asked. Everything spills from me, and I can’t stop it even if I want to. I tell you everything, half afraid that by doing so I’m pulling the wool off your eyes. Now you’ll see me, the real me… and I’m afraid you’ll walk away when you see how badly damaged I truly am.

“Sam, look at me,” you say, reaching out to brush the hair from my face. Your fingers burn along my skin and I sigh, leaning into your touch for a moment before lifting my eyes to meet yours. And now you’re talking, and I’m hanging on every word you say. 

You tell me its not my fault. You tell me I’m not broken. You remind me of all the good I do in the world, of every life I’ve saved. And god, the conviction in your voice as you speak… you honestly believe these things of me. You tell me I’m a good person… and I believe you.

When you finish speaking, you open up your arms and beckon to me with your fingers. I don’t even hesitate as I fall into your arms, letting you pull me close and stroke my hair. My body shakes with sobs, but you don’t say anything else other than “I’ve got you…” We stay like that for a while.

“You should get some sleep,” you say eventually, after the silence has stretched on and on for what feels like forever. I can hear the tiredness in your voice and realise I’ve been keeping you awake. It’s well past midnight, and I know Dean will want to head back to the bunker early. “Are you gonna be ok?”

“I’m fine,” I whisper before I can stop myself, and you scowl at me in disappointment. Then you sigh, probably realising there is nothing much you can do. I’m always going to be fine. Because I have to be.

Instead of getting angry, or even annoyed at me like I expect you to, you push me back gently until my head hits the pillows. You tell me to get comfortable, and I roll away from you immediately, assuming you can’t wait to get away. And yet, for some reason, you crawl into bed beside me and pull me back into your arms. 

It should be awkward, I’m twice the size of you at least. Instead, a strange calm settles over me, as if I’ve finally found my home. You whisper to me that you’re right there, that you’re not going anywhere. And for the first time in my life, I could finally say ‘I’m fine’ and mean it.

Because you’re always there to remind me. The angel on my shoulder.


End file.
